


Appetency

by ohstars



Series: 'Til the End of the Line [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Closeted Character, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars
Summary: After the events in DC, Steve and Sam set out to find the Winter Soldier. Not only must they find the Winter Soldier, but the Avengers are facing more and more publicity, which includes government control. Steve must guide the Avengers through the destruction of Hydra, society's opinionated interest, and the government's eye, all without breaking down completely.Our Now: Part Two of Four





	1. 2014

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamyJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamyJo/gifts).



> This is the second part of the second book, which means you should probably at least read part one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying something new, doing two one-shots per chapter. Let me know if you guys like it or not!

**2014**

 

They landed in Paris, a few miles from the base they were set to take down in a few days. Sam and Steve hauled their luggage off of the quinjet and into the cab waiting for them. “I still can’t believe you gave us three extra days of nothing before we infiltrate the base,” Sam grumbled. 

 

“Look, I miscalculated how quickly we’d arrive. Besides, we’re in Paris! We’ve got plenty of time to get to the safe house and set up camp with extra time to visit for a bit,” Steve reasoned. 

 

Sam cut his eyes at Steve. “And where do you have us staying?” 

 

Steve blushed. “Rennes.” 

 

“How far is Rennes from Paris?” 

 

“By train? Two hours. Three, if we drive,” Steve mumbled. Sam glared at him. Steve laughed, “Brittany is still beautiful! It’s not Paris, but it’s still a great place. Trust me.” 

 

Sam crossed his arms. “Next time, I book the trip.” 

 

They made it to the train station and found their way to their hotel in Rennes. The two of them wandered around the city, doing their best to enjoy the time they could before they had to leave for work later on in the week. 

 

“Tomorrow, I have to do something but I’ll meet you in Paris,” Steve said as they were getting ready for bed. 

 

“Fuck that,” Sam called from the bathroom. “We’re partners, which means we work together. So you’re stuck with me until we get back to the States.” He turned the corner and pointed a toothbrush at Steve. “Understood?” 

 

Steve laughed. “Got it.” 

 

The next day, Steve ordered Sam to get ready in light gear for a simple hiking trip. “Hiking? Aren’t there other means of travel to get to your destination?” 

 

“I don’t know where it is,” Steve admitted as they walked out the door. 

 

“Oh great. So we’re just going to walk around until we find it?” 

 

“Yup.”

 

They set off for Steve’s destination, Sam teasing him about not asking for directions or how confident he seemed in his ability to find this secret destination. It wasn’t until Steve started to move quicker, almost desperate.  

 

“Steve?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Where the hell are you taking me?” 

 

Steve ducked his head, blushing. “It’s nothing.” 

 

Sam paused, studying Steve’s movements. He decided against questioning him, instead letting the captain guide him to their destination. 

 

Twenty minutes later, a small village appeared in the distance. Steve took a deep breath and sprinted onwards. He was so close, so fucking close. He heard Sam following after him, the man’s footsteps heavy as he tried to keep up with Steve. 

Steve didn’t stop until he reached the abandoned village. 

 

“Steve, what is this place?” Sam asked quietly.

 

The blond walked through the empty roads, looking at the vacant storefronts and the houses here and there that once held families. “This is one of the villages the nazis ransacked. The Commandos and I passed through here about a month before,” he cleared his throat, but didn’t continue.

 

Sam’s eyes widened, regarding the abandoned town with awe. He didn’t dare say a word in case Steve needed silence to process and relish in the memories. 

 

They walked down the street, stopping only when they reached a demolished lot. Sam peered into the lot, picking out pews and crosses with his eyes. Steve stood, face stone clear of any emotion, before what was once a church. “The nazis had control of the area and some of the homes were already destroyed. It didn’t stop the village, though. They kept thriving, going about their days with a fearless drive to keep things as normal as possible for the children.” 

 

“Wow,” Sam said breathlessly, eyes dashing from Steve’s somber face and the ruined church.

 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. He cleared his throat and continued, “The few days we stayed here were some of the best ones we’d had during our missions.” 

“How so?”

 

Steve grinned. “There was a wedding. It was the most beautiful wedding I’d ever seen. It was right here, among the rubble and debris. There wasn’t much of a crowd, but everyone there was filled with love and support.” He turned around, facing the rest of the village. Steve pointed to a little shop, “They bought the most beautiful rings from that very shop where a lovely old woman made matching rings with her own hands. I never saw anything like it,” he whispered. 

 

“That’s amazing,” Sam told him as he rested a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“It was.”

 

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the weeds sway in the wind. “C’mon, let’s head back. We need to get a jumpstart on the mission.” Steve turned to leave, ignoring Sam’s quiet protests. Instead, he wandered out of the village, glancing back into the little jewelry shop once more. 

 

Hopefully Sam didn’t see his fist tighten around the dogtags on his neck, more specifically the matching rings nestled against his chest. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

They finished the mission with great success. Hydra was eradicated from their base, with all occupants detained and arrested by the French government. The French agents combed the labs and offices, taking any and every piece of information they could find. Steve made sure they would share the information with the United Nations before he and Sam move onto the next base. 

 

“Where to now?” Sam asked as they climbed into the cab. 

 

“We’ll take a train down to Croatia. Got word there was another base, supposedly deserted. Should be a simple job,” Steve explained. 

 

Sam nodded. “Is this what our lives have become? Hopping from one base to another in search of some guy who barely remembers you?” 

 

Steve winced. He didn’t like the idea of dragging Sam around, nor was he fond of the idea that Sam was forced to risk his life simply because Captain America asked him. “I told you,” he started, “Bucky’s-”

 

“More than just some guy, he’s your best friend and the only person to stick by your side despite your pathetic health and stubborn traits,” Sam droned. “Man, you’ve been saying that since the Potomac, where - if you don’t recall - he nearly  _ killed _ you!” 

 

With a clenched jaw, Steve took a deep breath. Yes, Sam’s claims were justified. Yes, they made sense when you look at the situation from an objective point of view. Steve knew this, he acknowledged it, but there was no way in hell that he could just ignore it. “For the last time, Sam, he’s more than that.”

 

Sam groaned. “I get it, alright-”

 

Steve snapped, “No, Sam, you don’t. You’re never going to understand this situation. Ever. Nobody fucking understands just how important this is for me to find him.” 

 

“Hey, jackass, I lost someone too. Riley was my Bucky-”

 

“But he wasn’t!” Steve bellowed, getting everyone’s attention. He was too pissed off to even blush. Despite his rage building, Steve still sunk in his seat to avoid any more attention. 

 

Sam looked at him with disgust. “Are you serious? And how so?”

 

Shit. Steve didn’t think this far through. He could admit his relationship with Bucky, but it all of this ‘acceptance’ stuff was still really new and he didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone. Not without Bucky, at least. He could be a complete ass and state the obvious, that Riley hasn’t returned from the dead to be some assassin with a mission to kill Sam. He shook his head. He  _ was _ an asshole, but that was too much. “Bucky was different,” Steve finally said. “He’s all I had.”

 

“But not all you have now. You’ve got me and the Avengers, his sister Daisy, and thousands of fans who support you unconditionally,” Sam whispered. “You don’t just have Bucky anymore and you’re not alone. But,” he sighed, “I get it.” 

 

Steve did his best not to roll his eyes. He settled into his seat and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. It worked until Sam nudged him. “Look,” he said and pointed across Steve at the window. The blond sat up and glanced out the window, only for his heart to stop.

 

The Alps. 

 

And all Steve could see was that blasted train. 

 

_ Steve was as close as he could get when he called, “Grab my hand!” He reached for his husband, desperate to pull the man close to him. But the rail Bucky was holding started to give, shaking in Bucky’s grip. His eyes widened. “No!” He lunged forward, one hand gripping the rail tightly and the other reaching for Bucky as he started to slip. _

 

_ The sergeant tried to grasp Steve’s hand, but it was too late. The rail detached from the side, Bucky’s hand inches away from Steve’s. Bucky screamed as he fell, the horrified noise echoing in Steve’s ears. _

 

_ The blond curled in on himself, huddling closer to the wall. He watched in horror as the train sped on and Bucky’s flailing body fell to the ground. _

 

Steve jumped up and pushed his way away from the window, his breathing labored and tears in his eyes. He plopped down into an empty seat on the opposite side, his back to the mountains. 

 

Sam cautiously sat beside him. “Steve?” 

 

“I couldn’t grab him. I tried. I really tried. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it,” Steve mumbled, holding his head in his hands. 

 

Sam’s eyes widened before his face steeled into counselor mode. “Steve, what’s going on?” He asked gently.

 

Steve looked up, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. “I couldn’t grab him. I tried, I really did. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t-”

 

“Wait…” Sam gasped, glancing back at the Alps. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry man.” He took Steve’s head in his hands and hugged him to his chest, letting the man cry as he did his best to comfort him. “We’re going to find him, Steve. Things will be okay and you two can go back to being best friends, yeah?” 

 

Steve sobbed softly into Sam’s shirt and suddenly Sam didn’t see Steve Rogers, Captain America. He saw Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who didn’t ask to become Captain America and the symbol of America, but the kid who was sent to a war with his best friend. Steve didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of this. 

 

Sam held him tighter and vowed to himself that he’d do anything to bring Bucky home. 


	2. 2014

Steve was glad to be home. It was always nice to have a break from missions and Hydra. The first couple of days were normal, he and Sam would be spend the days alone to recuperate. Steve would paint, catch up on the news, sleep, and work-out. By the third day, all he would do is work himself to death, trying to keep himself away from the negative thoughts. 

 

It was during the fourth day, when Steve was out jogging that an idea occurred to him. He’d been running through DC, like he always does first thing in the morning. The sun hadn’t started to rise yet when Steve turned onto a road on the outskirts of the city. It was deserted, other than a car or pedestrian here and there, and the shops were all closed. Steve jogged down the street, barely glancing at either side of the street. Until his eye caught a sign. 

 

He stopped, a smirk spreading across his face. It was a tattoo shop named the Patriot Eagle and had a tattooed eagle flying in front of the American flag. Steve couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship of the eagle’s design, including the tattoos littered on his wings. 

 

Steve shook his head and kept running, his feet pounding against the asphalt as the sun began to rise. 

 

Later on, when he was checking his emails, Steve opened up a new tab and before he knew it, he was searching for the Patriot Eagle Tattoo and Piercings Shop. And then he was clicking the artist tab and searching through the four artist at the shop. And then he was calling them, all without ever really thinking about his actions.

 

“Patriot Eagle Tattoos and Piercings, you’re speaking with Sal. How can I help you?”

Steve glanced at the artist tab on his screen and bit his lip. Sal Peddigon was Steve’s second favorite of the few, behind Jill Montieth. He cleared his throat, “Hello, I’m, um-“

 

“Interested in a tattoo?” Sal suggested.

 

A blush spread across Steve’s cheeks. “Yeah, I am.”

 

“And what are you looking to get?” 

 

“Um, actually before we get into that, there’s a few questions I need to ask.”

 

“Like?”

 

“I have an,” he struggled for the word, “ _ interesting _ medical condition. This condition makes me worried about the healing of the tattoo, but it’s hard to explain.”

 

There was silence for a moment before Sal said, “Okay. Have you spoken to your doctor? It’s important that you speak with them before you decide to get out. Especially since tattoos are forever and they aren’t cheap.”

Steve nodded. “I understand this. What are your hours?”  

 

“We’re open Wednesday through Sunday for walk-ins, Monday and Tuesdays are appointment only.” 

 

“Are you busy now?”

 

“Now? No, we just opened. We normally don’t have many customers before noon.” 

 

“I’ll be there in five. It’s easier to talk face-to-face.” Steve jumped up, kicking the seat back. 

 

“Okay, see you then…?”

 

“Steve.” The captain hung up, already halfway out the door. 

 

Adrenaline filled him as he walked down the streets, head tucked low and hunched to make himself feel smaller. He felt like his old self again, going to on some crazy adventure that would only get him in trouble later on. He did his best not to think about how this was completely different, about how there was no one at home to yell at him for being stupid and reckless. Steve did his best to keep his mind blank, trying to tune out any and all distractions that would suede him from his plan. 

 

If the old Bucky was here, he’d kill him. 

 

For the first time in a long time, Steve felt free. He didn’t feel his grief anchoring him down and in fact, he took comfort in the fact that he was now his own singular person. Since he met Bucky, it was always “Bucky and Steve” or “Winnie and Sarah’s boys,” Steve wasn’t just Steve until he became Captain America, even then he wasn’t just  _ Steve _ . It was nice to feel like he didn’t need someone else, be it Bucky or Cap, to define himself, even if he was the only one to see the difference. 

 

He made it to the shop. The Eagle was now lite with lights, the colors on the tattoos popping off the eagle’s feathers. Steve could see people mingling inside, only a handful who Steve suspected were the employees. 

 

Steve felt his stomach drop and his chest tighten. Did he really want to do this? Sure, there was a chance the serum may reject the ink all together and it’d be gone in a week. On the other hand, it could be completely normal and he’d have a tattoo forever. 

 

The blond grabbed the dog tags nestled against his chest and crossed the street. 

 

The door chimed when he opened it, making the six heads in front of him turn in his direction. “Hey, welcome to the Patriot Eagle!” A young lady asked, her arms covered in roses, marigolds, and sugar skulls. 

 

Steve kept the brim of his hat low and his sunglasses on. “Is Sal here?” 

 

A bigger man stepped forward, with tattoos up to his neck and his lip pierced. “I’m guessing you’re Steve?” 

 

“I am,” Steve said as he shook Sal’s hand. “Can we talk in private?” 

 

Sal glanced back at his coworkers and nodded. “Follow me.” Sal guided Steve into the back of the shop, past the chairs and tables and into a cramped office. “How can I help you?”

Steve kept his body hunched inwards. “Can I trust you?” 

 

“Um, yeah?” 

 

Steve studied him for a moment. “Good.” He took off his sunglasses and cap, stood to his full size, and crossed his arms. 

 

Sal’s eyes grew to twice their size. “Holy shit!” 

 

“If you want my business, this stays between us. Understood?” 

 

“Very,” Sal shook Steve’s hand again. “So when you meant you had a medical condition…?”

 

Steve sighed. “The super soldier serum didn’t come with an instructional booklet. I’m not exactly sure how my body will react to a tattoo. Hell, it may not even last a month.”

 

Sal nodded, still starstruck. “Yeah, that may be an issue.” 

 

“I’m willing to spend the money and time, if you and your team can keep this between us. I don’t want  _ anyone _ to know about this; no one in the media, no friends or family, not even the other Avengers. Okay?”

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

“Should we get started?” 

 

A half an hour later, Steve was surrounded by the employees of the Patriot Eagle, as Sal applied the stencil. “Did you ever think about tattoos before you…” Carver, one of the artists, asked as he leaned against Sal’s desk. 

 

Steve shook his head. “Before the serum, I was too sick and frail to really think about getting a tattoo. Knowing my luck, I would have got an infection or some other bullshit.” The artists laughed as Sal continued to prepare for Steve’s tattoo. 

 

“What do you think about the placement?” Sal asked, looking at Steve’s ankle as if it were glass. 

 

The captain grinned. “It’s perfect.” 

 

Sal started to tattoo. Steve gasped, shocked by how intense the needles dug into his skin. It didn’t hurt as bad as he was expecting though, but it was a bit more irritating than he anticipated. “Tattoos weren’t as socially accepted as they are today, hell a lot of things weren’t,” he continued. “I think my ma would have strangled me if I came home with this.” 

 

“Shit, my ma nearly throttled me when I came home with my first one!” Monroe laughed. 

 

Steve chuckled lightly, focusing on not jerking his leg too much. 

 

“I still can’t believe you’re here, Mr. Rogers,” Jill whispered quietly. 

 

“It’s just Steve.” He smiled at her. “Besides, I was jogging past here this morning and I couldn’t help but think it was meant to be.” 

 

“Wait a second, don’t you live on the other side of town?” Sal asked.

  
Steve blushed. “Uh, yeah, I do. Why?” 

 

“Are you telling me you ran all the way across town?” Jill gasped.

 

“I do every morning. Otherwise I get bored.”

 

Laughter filled the shop. “If that’s not the most Captain America thing I have ever heard!” Carver barked. 

 

Steve grinned, watching as Sal calmed down and continued to work. The door chimed and Monroe went to answer it. The others soon drifted off, coming back every now and then to ask how Steve was doing or see if Sal needed anything. 

 

“I think we’re almost done,” Sal mumbled as he moved Steve’s leg. 

 

“Thank god,” Steve sighed.

 

Sal chuckled. “The good captain can’t handle a little pain?”

 

“I’ve been shot in the gut by my best friend, twice. This is nothing.” 

 

“Show off.”

 

Twenty minutes later and Sal finished up. “What do you think?” 

 

Steve looked down and gasped. Tattooed on his ankle was Bucky’s dog tags, wrapped around his foot and calf just like it had been when he crashed the Valkyrie. He was in awe at how real it looked, the silver and depth of the tags was beautiful. “I love it,” he whispered, reaching down to touch it. 

 

“I’d be careful with your workouts and just healing in general. Here’s a pamphlet for aftercare and a list of things you need to watch for. Stop by as much as you want and we can help you monitor it. Here’s my personal number,” Sal handed him three pamphlets and a business card, “call or text as much as you need.” 

 

“I appreciate this,” Steve said, pocketing the pamphlets. “I’ll stop by tomorrow morning. Thank you so much.” The two of them made their way up to the front, where Steve paid Sal with a hefty tip (he may have also tipped the other employees, mostly to keep them quiet, but also because he felt guilty not going to them. Plus he understands how rough being an artist can be financially.) before he left to take care of his new ink. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

It was getting colder by the day, but that didn’t stop Steve and Sam from their morning runs. Okay, it didn’t stop Steve. After the first snow, Sam started to whine about going at a different time or using indoor equipment. 

 

“Steve, this is ridiculous!” Sam hissed as they jogged in place at a light. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You can tap out at any moment,” the blond quipped before he dashed across the street.

 

Sam groaned, waiting for the light to change as he glared at Steve on the opposite side. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an ass?” 

 

“Me?” Steve laughed. “Never.” 

 

When Sam finally crossed the street, the man glared at his captain. “Seriously, we need to cut back or something.”

 

Steve scoffed and started to jog, going slow enough for Sam to catch up and set a rhythm again. “Listen, this is a great endurance builder. Plus, if you keep moving, you’ll start to build up heat.”  

 

“Whatever, Captain Gymrat.” 

 

They kept going, creating a cadence with their footsteps. Sam grunted every few steps, Steve huffing along beside him.  “Okay, I need something to keep me focused. I left my damn headphones.” 

 

“Okay,” Steve mumbled. “When do you go home for the holidays?”

 

“Friday,” Sam grunted. 

 

Steve nodded. 

 

Sam suddenly stopped. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you going to Daisy’s or Tony’s? Does Nat have something or are you going with Sharon to dinner? What’s going on?” 

 

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sharon and Nat are both on a mission, Tony and Pepper are going to visit her family, and Daisy moved in with her daughter in Illinois. I was just going to… stay home.” 

 

“Steve,” Sam sighed, a sympathetic smile on his face, “you can’t stay here by yourself. Would you like to join me and my family for Thanksgiving?” 

 

“I don’t-”

 

“Don’t you dare say ‘I don’t want to impose’ because we both know that’s bull,” Sam stated in his best Steve impression. 

 

Steve blushed harder (but if anyone asked it was because of the cold). “If you and your family would have me, I’d love to come with,” he admitted quietly.

 

Sam grinned. “I’ll call my mom and let her know while you get us coffee.”

 

“Sure, if you can catch me,” Steve said before he sprinted down the street. 

 

“I’m best friends with a fucking child,” Sam grumbled as he raced after Steve. 

 

On Friday, the two of them left DC and headed to Sam’s parents in Harlem. They were staying with Darlene, despite Steve’s insistence that they could stay in his apartment in Manhattan, with Sam’s siblings Gideon and Sarah and their families. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but honestly Steve was excited. It brought him back to when the Barnes family moved in after the Great Depression hit, when he had to share a room with Bucky and his siblings. 

 

“Sorry about the tight squeeze, Steve,” Darlene said on Thursday morning as she poured him a cup of coffee. 

 

Steve laughed, taking the cup from her. “Thank you,” he mumbled. He sipped at his mug and cleared his throat. “It’s a nice change compared to the Tower.” 

 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”    
  
“The Tower is just,” he sighed, “very sterile. Not what I grew up with, at least.” 

 

Darlene shook her head. “I couldn’t imagine what it’s been like for you, Steven. Growing up in the 30’s, the war, waking up in this century?” She huffed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

 

“Don’t be,” Steve grinned. “It’s been rough, but I don’t regret anything.” 

 

“Well I’m glad that everything turned out alright,” she said. “Although, I don’t know whether I need to thank you or scold you for getting my baby involved in your lifestyle.” 

 

Steve blushed. “I know it’s not ideal, Mrs. Wilson-”

 

She slapped her hand down on the counter. “Now what have I told you about calling me by that? You’re older than me, for crying out loud! Please, call me Darlene.” 

 

He blushed harder. “I’m sorry,  _ Darlene _ .” Steve chuckled. “No, I really didn’t want to drag Sam into all of this Cap stuff. It’s not exactly what I had planned when I had first met him. Then again, I did try and stop him.”

 

“Oh I’m sure you did. 

 

Sam slumped into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking nothing like the man he’d known for almost a year, but rather the child who grew up in this very kitchen. “Mornin’ Mama,” he mumbled as he kissed her cheek. 

 

“Good morning, Sammy. Coffee’s in the pot and there’s scrambled eggs in the microwave that Stevie made. And then the both of you need to get out of my damn kitchen. I gotta lot of food to make,” Darlene chided. 

 

Steve saluted her, grinning. “Yes ma’am.” 

 

Later on, when they were around the dinner table and feasting on Darlene’s lovely meal, Steve was hit with a wrecking ball of emotions. They’d just started to dig in, Steve trying his best not to inhale the entire table (he was really glad Darlene made triple what she usually made…). 

 

It had been so long since he had a real homemade meal, one made by someone who just wanted to feed the people she loved. There was something so special about a mother’s cooking, especially someone as warm and kind as Darlene. Add that to all the love and compassion Steve felt radiating off of Sam’s siblings and their families, directed at each other and him, it was overwhelming. He hadn’t had a Thanksgiving meal, a true and traditional holiday meal, since ‘42, and even then the war had found a way to ruin it. It had been so long, he completely forgot what it felt like to be surrounded by people who truly care about you and genuinely  _ want _ to spend the holiday with you. 

 

Steve did his best to seal this memory in his mind. 

 

“This is incredible, Darlene,” Steve nearly groaned between bites. 

 

Darlene laughed, a sound filled with so much joy and love Steve nearly burst. “I’m glad you like it, Steve. Eat as much as you want.”   
  


“Oh he will,” Sam quipped. 

 

Steve glared at him, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. 

 

Gideon, Sam’s older brother, chuckled and sat up straighter. “So Steve, I know this is kind of a personal question,” he started. The captain tensed in the slightest, always on guard with his emotions. Gideon continued with an earnest curiosity Steve couldn’t fault him for, “When was your last Thanksgiving?” 

 

“1942,” he responded. “I’ve been on missions every year since I woke up,” Steve explained as he sipped at his glass of water, “so I never get to celebrate. Tony usually holds… what are they called?” he asked Sam. 

 

Sam bit his lip. “Friendsgiving,” he supplied.

 

Steve blushed. “Right. So yeah, I guess it’s been… a few years.” 

 

“Was it a good one?” his daughter, Cynthia, asked. 

 

“I enjoyed it,” Steve told her, trying to give his best smile. Cynthia beamed at him from across the table. 

 

Darlene and Sam, however, were not giving him big, goofy grins, but they didn’t say anything either. 

 

Steve didn’t think too much about it until they cornered him after dinner. Sam and Darlene settled up beside him as he washed the dishes. “Spill,” Sam demanded. 

 

“What happened that last Thanksgiving?” Darlene asked with just as much attitude. 

 

“It was right before the war. Bucky, his little brother, and his brother-in-law, were all about to get shipped off. It was tense, but you know,” Steve shrugged, focusing intensely on the dishes. 

 

Darlene placed a hand on his shoulder. “Was it your last Thanksgiving with your mother?” 

 

Steve shook his head. “No, she passed in ‘36.”

 

“Then who did you spend the holidays with?” Darlene’s voice was quiet, filled with concern and sympathy as Sam watched with understanding. 

 

“Bucky’s family mostly. Our families were always spending holidays together, it happens when you live together,” he chuckled. 

 

Darlene took the dishes out of his hands and wiped them off, forcing Steve to face her. She took both of his damp hands in hers and looked up at him. “Steven,” she started, “I don’t want you to ever spend another holiday by yourself. Do you understand?”

 

Steve shook his head, eyes threatening to water. 

 

Sam clasped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re family now, man. If you need anyone, I told you I’m always here if you need someone to turn to.”

 

“And now you have us. We may be your biological family and we may not have a rich history together,” Darlene added, “but we love you without conditions. You saved my son,” she breathed out, already in tears, “you helped him find himself. You gave him a purpose after he lost it. I could never thank you enough for doing that for my baby. And I will stop at nothing to make sure you have the same support. If you need someone to depend on, I’ve got two strong, incredible boys who will gladly be your brothers.” Darlene was crying now and Steve was starting to sniffle. “If you need someone to vent to and unwind with, I’ve got a kind and compassionate daughter who will be glad to be your sister. If you need to spoil someone, I’ve got three grandchildren you can help me spoil.” They both chuckled, watery and soft. Sam squeezed his shoulder tighter, moving in closer. “And if you ever,  _ ever _ , need someone to give you a warm hug, advice, to hear your problems and praises, to help you through a situation, either spiritual or physical, or even a home cooked meal, you turn to me, Steven. I may not be your momma, and I will never claim to be because that is a bond no one can impede on, but I sure will love you like your my son.”

 

Steve didn’t know what to say. He took in a deep, shaky breath as a stray tear fell from his eyes. Darlene squeezed his hands. “I know it’s been hard, baby. I can’t even begin to comprehend what you’ve been through. What my Sammy’s told me, it’s been  _ hell _ . I just want you to be happy, to have a family, to know you aren’t alone.” She shook her head. “I hate that you’ve gone through so much and lost everything, but Steven, we are here to help you rebuild and survive.

 

“I will never force you to be apart of this family, but I sure as hell won’t stop you. I told you from the get-go to make yourself comfortable and I mean it. For as long as you wish, you’re a Wilson. Is that okay?” She asked quietly, beaming at him. 

 

“I think it’s more than okay,” he whispered. 

 

Darlene pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, filled with a love only a mother could give. “Welcome home, baby.” Steve held her tight, trying not to break in her arms. 

 

Sam hugged them both, leaning his head on his mother’s other shoulder. “Momma, you do realize you’ll have to start buying more food regularly, right?” he mumbled after a moment. 

 

The three of them laughed, separating and wiping their eyes. “It’s not his fault he could out eat an army,” Darlene chided, hugging Steve’s side. 

 

“That’s right,” Steve agreed, hugging her back. 

 

Darlene slapped Steve’s stomach. “Now finish the dishes, both of you.”

 

Sam and Steve groaned, shuffling back to the sink with a groan of “Yes, Momma.” 


	3. 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've thought long and hard about this chapter. Originally, this chapter was going to be yet again another angst builder, but then I got to thinking... THIS is the moment we've been waiting for, the scene I've been dying for y'all to read and the scene that will change the story forever. It's also a moment I've thought a lot about - not just because of Stucky, but how Steve would react since he grew up in the 30's. Anyways, I decided that we all deserve this. It's the holidays and you guys are some of the best readers I have ever had in all my years of fanfic writing (I'm looking at you @SamyJo). 
> 
> This is my gift to you. Enjoy. 
> 
> (unedited)

**2015**

 

The Avengers, minus Natasha and Bruce, were huddled in the living room, barely awake after a brutal mission. “C’mon Tony, hurry up,” Clint groaned from his spot on the back of the couch. He was nursing an ice pack over his eyes. 

“Relax hawkguy,” Tony snapped in frustration. “I’m doing the best I can.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow, watching as Tony struggled to get the TV to work. Thor crossed his arms. “Isn’t he supposed to be a genius?” Thor whispered to the captain as the two lounged on the sofa, their sore legs propped up. 

With a snicker, Steve replied, “Geniuses sometimes find it hard to do things the simple way.”

Thor laughed, clapping Steve’s shoulder. “No truer words have been said.” 

“Quit conspiring,” Sam laughed as he threw a pillow at the two of them.   


Steve slung it back, glaring at him playfully.

“Hush now, children,” Natasha said as she and Bruce brought in bowls of spaghetti for everyone. “Eat so we can get out of here.” 

As they all began to dig in, Tony continued to fiddle with the TV, cursing under his breath about the British. CNN popped up onto the screen suddenly, making Tony shout “Finally!” 

The others cheered, glad to see something familiar after a long, hard mission. Tony settled in with his bowl, talking with Bruce quietly as the anchors started to drone on and on about the miserable things happening in the world. 

“Is this the only channel?” Sam groaned. 

Tony glared at him. “Unless you want to try and change the damn channel, then yes.” 

Sam raised his empty hand in surrender, doing his best not to snicker. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something when the screen caught his attention. The anchor cleared his throat and grinned. “Today, America progressed as a country. The Supreme Court has officially declared that same-sex marriages are legal in all fifty states-” 

Everything froze.

Steve could hear the others cheering. He could hear the laughs and applause. He could hear the anchor droning on and the crying from LGBT all over the states. 

The next thing he knew, he was bursting out the doors and running down the dirt road leading up to the house. There were tears pouring down his face, his breathing was labored, and his legs were aching, but he couldn’t stop. 

He could barely process what was going on, much less what he was thinking. He just needed to get out of there and away from everyone.

It would have worked had he been paying attention.

Steve turned onto the main road, his vision blurred. Sam was chasing after him, calling his name. It wasn’t until Sam had made it onto the road that his legs gave out a few hundred feet away. 

The super soldier crumbled in on himself, sobbing and grabbing at his uniform. He just needed to hold them, just needed to touch them. Steve was growing frantic, trying to find the tags through his uniform when Sam slid in beside him. “Steve,” Sam said with a surprising calm, “what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Steve shook his head, trying to find the tags still. He pushed at Sam, zeroing in on his pockets. “Are you hurt? C’mon man, you’re scaring me here.” 

Steve ripped the tags out of his boot finally and collapsed into Sam’s arms, the tags held tightly in his grip. Sam didn’t say a word, just held him there on the side of the road.

They rocked back and forth as Sam hummed Marvin Gaye songs, trying his best to ease Steve’s situation. He held him tight, pressing his body against his as much as he could with their clunky uniforms still on. 

The blond sniffled into Sam’s shirt, his mind starting to clear. 

It was at this point in Steve’s life that he realized that he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Someone needed to know, because Steve needed help that Daisy couldn’t give. He needed Sam to understand. 

Steve pushed away gently, looking down at his precious dog tags. 

“Steve, what’s going on? You’ve got us all scared to death,” Sam whispered. 

He looked up, ready to finally get it out, but he just couldn’t. Years of being forced to keep things a secret, the torment and the threats building up on each other to build a wall of impenetrable security against the world knowing, wasn’t something you could just tear down. His fist tightened on the tags, his thumb caressed the set of rings resting against his palm. 

_ Bucky would want this, Steve. He’d want you to be open about everything. All you have to do is tell Sam.  _

“Steve?” Sam tried again.

“I thought his day would never happen,” Steve rasped, not meeting Sam’s eye. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“When I was growing up, we’d see men slain for even looking at each other wrong or buying each other one too many drinks. It was scary,” his voice was small and vulnerable, almost like a child’s. “Bucky, he was always trying to ease my mind about things. Talking nonsense about utopias and how the next century will be filled with flying cars, immortals, and peace. He would spend all day dreaming up these worlds for the two of us and our little bubble of people.” 

Sam nodded. “He sounds like he was a great man.”

Steve grinned through his tears. “The best,” his voice cracked and a sob tore through his vocal cords. “I thought we’d see this day together,” he admitted. 

There was no response until Sam finally mumbled, “I don’t follow.”

Steve shook his head, crying into his hands as he mustered up the strength to finally admit it. “Sam,” he started as he looked the man in the eye, “Bucky was my best friend and my only family after my ma died. I love him with everything I have.” 

“And he loves you, Stevie. Somewhere in his brain, he still remembers you and loves you like the brothers you are.” 

The captain let out a cry of anguish as he shook his head harder. Sam wasn’t  _ getting _ it. “No, Sam, Bucky and I weren’t like that.”

“Weren’t like what?” 

Steve opened his palm, tracing over the rings. “We were more than brothers,” he whispered, not meeting Sam’s eyes. 

Sam gasped, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. “Steve, do you mean you and Bucky…?” 

_ Just go for it Steve. Spell it out for him because you apparently can’t explain it to him without explicitly saying it. _

“Bucky and I were together. We loved each other. He’s my everything Sam,” Steve sobbed. He looked up at Sam desperately, “You can’t tell,  _ please _ . I-I… No one can know, Sammy. They’ll kill me, they’ll kill him. I can’t- I can’t-” Steve broke into sobs, ripping himself apart from the inside out. 

Sam gathered Steve in his arms again, sniffling. “Stevie, you’re okay. Shh, buddy it’s okay,” he whispered. “Oh, Steve. I get it. God, Steve, you don’t have to hide. Not from me, not from the team.” Steve screamed into Sam’s chest, his shoulders shaking. 

The brunet rocked back and forth, silently crying with Steve. He’d been waiting for Steve to fully open up to him since they met, but he always assumed it’d be some war story… Sam never thought that Steve was gay, or at least in a relationship with Bucky. 

Steve finally calmed down enough to start walking home, sniffling as he avoided eye contact still. “Listen, Steve, you don’t have to share everything. You can share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with. Just know I won’t judge or assume anything you tell me. Okay? It’ll stay between us,” Sam told him, setting a slower pace than normal for their walk back to the safe house. “But you really need to talk about this. It’s not healthy to be keeping this in and hiding it from everyone, especially when something  _ this big _ happens. I’m not pushing, but I do think you need to talk to  _ someone _ . I can even hook you up with a the-”

“No,” Steve said with a voice as solid and commanding as his Cap voice. “I’d rather it stay between us. The less people who know, the better.” 

“Steve, this isn’t the forties. Fuck, gay people can get  _ married _ now Steve. Not everyone’s accepting of it, but there’s a hell of a lot of people who are. People aren’t going to condemn you for this.” 

Steve shook his head. “Sam, you don’t get it.” He was frustrated, tugging at his hair with his free hand until he spun to stare at the shorter man with a passionate anger. “You’ll never understand what it was like living back then like the freak I am,” he spat. “Fuck, I almost lost my job - my  _ life  _ \- over being… queer. I’ve seen men killed and ripped to shreds because someone  _ suspected _ they may be queer, or at least looked like it. Do you know what that does to a kid? Not to mention the Catholic church my ma and I went to. Spewing bullshit about how I’d be damned because I couldn’t help but love my best friend and brainwashing the two of us into thinking whatever we had was disgusting and shouldn’t be shared with the world. Hell, we would probably still be bottling up our feelings for each other if it wasn’t for the fact I nearly died while the asshole was off doing God knows what. I’ve spent my entire life keeping him a secret from the world, hiding my true feelings away because in the eyes of society, I’m a fucking pervert.” Steve’s face was red and drenched in tears, twisted in anger. “Do you realize I almost lost the title of Captain America because of this? That when Senator Brandt got word that Bucky loved me I had to threaten him to keep us from going to prison. So don’t you dare try to fucking tell me that no one will try and hurt me or Bucky. Don’t try and tell me about your ‘accepting utopia.’”

Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s going too far-”   


“You wanted me to confide in you? Well here it goes, Sammy.” Steve took in a deep breath, his body tense and ready to fight if he needed to. Sam did his best to keep his posture relaxed and calm, as if not to spook the super soldier. “I absolutely hated my life back then. You’ll _never_ _truly_ understand just how hard it was to be myself or with Bucky. Having to go on double dates and watching Bucky break heart after heart because if he didn’t date a new girl every few weeks, someone would get suspicious. I absolutely hated not being able to tell my ma just how much Bucky meant to me, to tell her the truth about our sleepovers. I hated having to call myself ‘Gracie’ just so we could keep touch while he was away. I could barely survive the year we broke up when I became Cap and he went off to the war. Bucky is my everything and I couldn’t tell _anyone_ without fearing if they’d have me arrested or not.” He shook his head and glanced down at the tags once more. 

Steve sniffled and ran a thumb over Bucky’s name. “We’d stay up late in the middle of summer, laying on the roof of our building where no one else could see us. We’d lay there in each other’s arms, Bucky holding me tight to his chest so I could hear his heartbeat whenever I needed a little extra comfort after Ma passed or me holding him so he could keep an eye on my breathing and wheezing. We’d stay up there and talk long into the night, sometimes about pointless things like my art or his science-fiction novels, but sometimes… we’d let ourselves dream.” 

“What about?” Sam asked quietly. 

  
“Our future mostly, especially gearing up for the war. He wanted to move out of Brooklyn and maybe buy a place on the outskirts of New York so we could still find work. It’d be small, but big enough for the two of us and maybe a dog or two. There’d be two bedrooms, a master for us and a guest room, with a patio turned art studio that had plenty of windows for natural light and faced a beautiful forest. He’d build us a porch for us to have coffee on in the mornings and to watch fireflies during the summer. I’d give anything to have that with him right now. I’d give up being Cap and happily return to my frail body if that meant Bucky and I got to survive the war with each other. It’d be even better if we could adopt a couple of kids like we always dreamed of but never actually said.

“There’s a lot I miss,” Steve admitted, “A lot that I’ll never get back, even if Bucky returns and remembers everything.”

Sam pulled Steve in for a hug, squeezing him as tight as he possibly could. “You’re one brave man, Rogers. I’m impressed with just how much you’ve shared, how honest you’ve been. Steve, I want you to know that I’ll be there for you no matter what. If you ever decide to come out to the others or to the world, I’ll be right there to help you through it. And if not, you still can’t get rid of me.” He pulled away and beamed at Steve as the other man started to smile. “And if you’d like, I’d love to hear more about you and Bucky.” 

“Don’t open that can of worms. I’ve only been talking to Daisy about Buck and I since I woke up and I have plenty of stories I haven’t been able to tell her,” Steve laughed. 

The brunet’s eyes widened. “I know we’re close, but I do  _ not _ want to hear how you and the Winter Soldier fucked.” 

Steve’s head slung back in the most boisterous laugh Sam had ever heard him give. “Nothing like that. I could barely say I loved the man, let alone spill all of our dirty little secrets. Besides, Ma always made it clear that what happened between two people was private and special when it stayed that way.” 

Sam looked at him for a moment, not sure if he believed the captain. “Why do I think you’re doing that ‘I’ll pretend I’m a prude because you think I am’ thing?” The blond winked at him. “You’re an asshole. How did Bucky put up with you?”

“Cause he was just as big of an ass as I am.” Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We… We had a great relationship. It was effortless, kind of like how Nat and Clint just work well together. He was the only person who didn’t treat me like I was made of glass. We were inseparable, always hanging off one another - and that was before we knew we liked one another. Buck treated me like a person, involving me in his stuff and pushing me to my limits. Whenever I got myself into trouble, he was always there to jump in with me. He’d make sure I wasn’t severely hurt and lecture me for hours on end.

“Did you know he’s the reason I got into art school? He put in my application and showed them one of my sketchbooks. He’s also the reason I went in and saved all those men in the first place, even though he had broken my heart. Buck’s the reason I have Daisy still and the reason I didn’t have to parade around as Cap anymore. Well, back then at least.”

Sam was amazed. He’d learned more about Steve in the past half an hour than he had ever known. “I didn’t even know you were an artist,” Sam whispered. 

Steve blushed. “I don’t really paint anymore. Not like I used to. I still sketch every now and then, but it’s just not the same without him to encourage me.”

“Well, I’d love to see your work sometimes.” 

The captain nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence, slowly nearing the driveway to the safe house. Sam cleared his throat. “We need to talk about what happened, Steve. I just need to know what you were experiencing so we can come up with a realistic lie to tell the team. Unless you’d like to share with them what you told me.” 

Steve heaved a sigh. “I know I should, but I can’t. It’s hard to explain just how  _ shocking _ it is to see that queer people aren’t being murdered for being open about their relationship. I know it happens still, but a majority can be out and proud. Bucky and I, we never even thought that could happen. Hell, our whole neighborhood never expected it.” 

“Wait, you and Buck lived in a gay neighborhood?” 

“Kind of. It wasn’t like West Hollywood or anything, but there was an understanding that what you heard coming from an apartment wasn’t any of your business. There were secret gay bars and couples who married each other just to keep up the rouse of being straight. It was as much of a gay neighborhood as we could have in the late 30’s.” Steve chuckled. “We were actually good friends with an older couple, like late thirties old but we were fresh out of high school at the time, who really taught us a lot. Bucky had met them when he was looking for an apartment for us, get me out of my ma’s place. Mark and Victor, now they were a couple. They were always giving us advice and tips on where to go, for our fake dates and our real ones. They were good people.” 

Sam shook his head. “I didn’t really consider what it was like back then…” 

“It was harder in the war, when I lost him and could barely grieve because everyone thought I was just his best friend. When… When in reality I was just like any new widower, grieving my husband.” Steve pulled out Bucky’s dog tags and handed them to Sam. 

Sam stopped in his tracks, his heart bursting with pain and sympathy for his friend. “You guys got married?” 

Steve smiled, wistfully and loving. “Gabe was the one to tell us that we didn’t need a legally binding marriage certificate to be married. Buck found these,” he lifted one of the tags to reveal matching gold rings, “in a little Italian village. Handmade and everything. Then, when we made it into France, the first church we could find was the place to do it.”

“So when we hiked all the way to Falaise and saw those ruins, that was your wedding you talked about?” Sam asked, finally connecting all of the dots. 

The captain nodded. “Best day of my life since the war started.” 

Sam pulled Steve into a tight hug. “If you and Buck ever figure this out again, I call being your best man.” 

Steve laughed and clapped Sam’s back. “Absolutely.”

They started to walk again. “Do you realize the team thinks you’re homophobic?” 

“Homophobic?” Steve mumbled, brows furrowed.

“When someone hates gay people - or queer as you call them - then they’re called homophobes. It literally means being prejudice against gays.” 

Steve bit his lip. “Can’t blame me for not knowing how to react when people are suddenly discussing it. I’m always worried people are going to react negatively, even though I’ve never spoken about it in the open or with anyone from this century. It’s just a gut reaction. Them thinking I’m homophobic is better than them knowing I’m bisexual.”

Sam nodded, understanding. “As sad as that is, I get it. I know it’s going to take some time for you to be comfortable with that kind of attention and having a wide spread of people know. So in the meantime, I’ll help you keep it a secret. We’ll just tell the team you got overwhelmed. They don’t need to know why or anything.” 

“I’m really glad you let Natasha and me in that day.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I guess I am too. Didn’t sign up for this though.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! I'll see you next year! ~ J xxxx


	4. 2015

Three weeks later, the Avengers returned to New York and Steve and Sam traveled home to DC. “We’re meeting tonight for dinner to discuss some  _ private _ matters, Steve. My place at eight, got it?” 

 

Steve saluted him. “Got it. I’ll be there at eight o’clock on the dot.” 

 

Sam glared at the captain. “Okay, Captain Smartass.” 

 

They each went to their respective homes, starting the slow process of settling back into civilian life after a long mission. It wouldn’t last long before Ultron crashed into their lives, but neither soldier knew that. Steve unpacked his bag and started a load of laundry before he gathered up his box of things and traveled to Sam’s. 

 

The brunet barely said anything to his captain as he opened the door. They moved together in silence, opening pizza boxes and popping the caps off of beer bottles. Each claimed a side of the couch, staring at each other as they stuffed their faces with greasy civilian food. 

 

“What’s in the box?” Sam asked eventually. 

 

Steve blushed. “You said you wanted to discuss  _ private _ matters, so I brought a few things.” 

 

Sam glared at him, body tensing. “If you brought your sex toys, Steve, I swear-”

 

“It’s nothing sexual!” Steve laughed. “It’s just some stuff that Howard and Daisy kept safe for Buck and I. Figured you’d find it interesting.” Steve shrugged, blushing furiously.

 

Sam’s eyebrows rose, his interest piqued. He set his plate on the coffee table and grabbed the box, hauling it on the couch beside him. “Do you want to guide me or should I just dive in?” 

 

Steve considered it for a moment before he grabbed a book, careful of the yellowed pages. “This is the first sketchbook Buck bought me after we started to date. It’s pretty much filled with him in various states, mostly innocent. Tread carefully, though. I can’t remember where the nudes are,” he explained as he handed over the book.

 

“Ha, very funny,” Sam grumbled. Carefully, Sam opened up the hardcover to reveal a skyline. “Where’s this?”

 

“View from the rooftop of the building we grew up in. We would spend days up there during the spring, when my asthma would act up. He’d make a little nest and we’d bring up plenty of comics and books, while I carried whatever sketchbook or paper I could find. He’d read science fiction novels and I would sketch.” 

 

Sam started to flip through the pages, showing more landscapes and still lifes as he went deeper. He came across a portrait of a woman with Steve’s eyes and lips that made Sam pause. “Your mother?” 

 

Steve hummed. “That was a month before she got sick. I remember watching her listen to the radio after a long shift at the hospital. I was home sick with some cold and Buck was at school. She was the perfect subject. I ended up painting her portrait later on, but I don’t remember what happened to it.”

 

“She’s stunning.” 

 

“You should have seen her in person,” Steve mumbled. “Ma was a saint. She was a fierce woman, always ready to stand her ground, but she knew how to play the game. I don’t even think Natasha could match Ma in a game of wits. She was always giving, be it her time or her food or her home, to whoever needed it. We’d volunteer at the hospital whenever we needed to get out of the house and she let the Barnes move in when the Depression hit. Everything was positive when she was around, even if it was the shittiest thing you’d ever experience.” 

 

“Sounds like one hell of a woman.” 

 

Steve grinned. “The most resilient.” 

 

Sam lingered for a moment longer before he turned to sketch of Bucky and his family. “Who are these people?” 

 

Steve was beaming now. He pointed to George, his face well aged and lively. “That’s George Barnes, Bucky’s father. He wasn’t the best man, especially not to Buck, but he cared for us in his own way.” Steve’s finger moved to Winifred, who stood to the left with her arms around George’s middle. “This is his mother Winifred. Your mom reminds me of her, actually. There was never a child that was out of place at the Barnes household. If you came over, you may as well been one of her own. She and Ma were best friends. Hell, Ma delivered Daisy in my mother’s bedroom. You don’t just let anyone have a baby in your bed.” 

 

Sam shook his head, in awe at the rich history Steve was sharing for the first time. “And this?” he pointed to Eugene, who stood on George’s right. 

 

“Eugene, Buck’s kid brother. Good man, better pitcher than you’d believe. Real ladies man, too. Always playing with a girl’s heart, in the best of ways.” 

 

Sam pointed to Bucky, who was kneeling between Daisy and Rebecca. “That makes this Bucky?” 

 

“The one and only,” Steve said wistfully. “He was about seventeen in this picture. We hadn’t been together long, but boy did he have me hooked. Kept messing with me while I sketched them that afternoon. He wouldn’t stop biting his lip and it drove me crazy,” he admitted. Steve shook his head. “God, you should have seen him back then. Always had a smile on his face unless he was pissed at me, which was… all the time.” Steve chuckled. “He could never stay mad for long, though, and he always had my back.” 

 

“And this must be Daisy?” he pointed to Rebecca. 

 

Steve shook his head. “That’s Rebecca, second oldest kid. I, uh, never realized how much they looked alike.” 

 

Sam looked to Daisy. “It’s always interesting to see how people looked when they were younger. I can definitely see the resemblance between Daisy then and Daisy now. Steve, you’ve got a real talent here.” 

 

The captain blushed. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

 

The brunet turned the page to find a sketch of Bucky sleeping. “Dude, that’s kind of creepy.” 

 

“It’s not creepy!” Steve laughed. “He knew what I was doing. Hell, he loved that sketch.”  

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.” He looked at it for a minute. “Steve, I know you love him and I want to help you find him,” he trailed off.

 

“But?” Steve sighed.

 

He flipped to the next page of Bucky laughing, then to the next with Bucky and Daisy taking a nap on the couch, and to the next of Bucky laying on the sofa in just his underwear. Sam gave Steve a ‘really?’ look, but the blond wouldn’t meet his eyes. He closed the book and faced him, completely serious. “Listen, I get that you love him. I really do, Steve, but Bucky isn’t just good ol’ Bucky anymore. He’s the Winter Soldier, too. We don’t know what’s going to happen the next time we see him. He may come running into your arms like a fucking Nicholas Sparks movie, or he could use his new arm to strangle us both.”  

 

Steve sighed, taking the book from Sam’s hands. He flipped through it with a small smile, stopping every few pages. “I know, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ve told you time and time again that Bucky means the world to me. If you were in my position, what would you do?” Steve simply asked. 

 

Sam groaned. “Okay, sure, I don’t know what I’d do in your situation. Still won’t stop me from reminding you that all of this,” he waved a hand over the box, “may very well be distant memories. I just don’t want to see you get hurt when Bucky doesn’t remember you or if he doesn’t feel the same way.” 

 

“Thanks for that. I really do appreciate it, Wilson. It’s nice to know you’ve got my back.” Steve set the sketchbook down and grabbed the copy of  The Great Gatsby he’d given Bucky all those years ago. “Bucky came out to me with this,” he whispered. 

 

“The hell? How?” Sam was intrigued, pushing aside the fact that his best friend is in love with a known assassin and indulging in his old man stories. 

 

Steve chuckled. “I read it when it first came out. I read it over and over again and I wanted Bucky to read it. Something inside of me clicked when I read it and I didn’t even know it until almost a decade later.” He flipped through the book, showing various pages with his doodles and remarks for Sam to see. “Bucky loved science fiction novels. He’d read them all day long, but show him a contemporary novel and he’d whine until his lungs gave out. So I drew in it. If there’s one way I could get Buck’s attention, it was through my art. It was his birthday present and the two of us were fighting, I think. He finished reading it the next day and the two of us sat there for hours discussing and dissecting the story.” 

 

“Yeah, but how did he come out with it?” 

 

“One of the first things I told Buck was that I was partial to Gatsby and in return he said Nick. This book,” he shook it, “was sacred between us. Bucky carried this with him like a bible when he was in training and later on in the military. It was during one of our later missions, we were on watch at the campsite when he brought up an interesting theory. Nick Carraway has the biggest crush on Gatsby. I mean, it was all so clear. Nick was secretly queer. And Buck,” Steve shook his head as if to shake the giant grin off his face, “he explained this beautifully. Showing me quotes to back up his claims and all sorts of interesting ideas. That’s the kind of guy Buck was, always thinking and coming up with theories. He finished off this beautiful, passionate speech about how Nick was gay and how he showed the world secretly, representing us before it was okay. I remember very clearly him telling me ‘I think that’s why I always loved Nick and why I always thought of you as a better version of Gatsby.’” 

 

Sam hummed. “That’s a great story.” 

 

Steve shrugged, suddenly embarrassed and shy over the whole thing. He packed the box up and glanced back at the game. It was comfortable, yet uneasy. Steve had opened up a lot in the past few weeks, more so than he’d been in the past few years, so Sam simply went with it. 

 

“How’s the team?” Sam asked during a commercial break.

 

“The Dodgers aren’t as good as they used to be. They could-”

 

“The Avengers dumbass!” 

 

Steve smirked. “Oh, that team!” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “They’re good. We’ve been talking a lot about future missions. They aren’t as keen as you to go hunting for Buck and taking down Hydra, you know that.”

 

“Actually I didn’t,” Sam said as his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you telling me I’m the most supportive of your hunt?” 

 

The captain nodded. “Tony thinks it’s ridiculous, Nat’s just worried in general about Bucky’s sanity, Bruce thinks we’re going into an unnecessary fight, Clint is just wary of him, and Thor keeps trying to warn me that Bucky may be like Loki, only he’ll never be the Bucky I knew again. I’ve gotten a lot of shit about my being reckless and how I’m putting my trust in the wrong people, which is bullshit! I know for a fact Bucky won’t be the same when he comes home - if he comes home. I just know that I have to help him heal and get away from the torture Hydra did.” 

 

Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry, Steve. That must be tough to deal with and I,” he sighed. “I know I’ve said a thing or two about how I don’t want you to get hurt, but I hope you realize that’s coming from a place of respect and love. I trust you, Steve, as much as you trust me. I know your intentions are good and that this is what you believe is right. I”m here to support you and make sure you don’t hurt yourself too badly. I don’t want to nag or annoy you with what I think. I-”

 

“Sam, stop. You don’t have to defend yourself or your opinions. I understand where you’re coming from. I really, truly do. You’re the only one who sees my side, which means a lot.” Steve shook his head. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

 

“Ask away.” 

 

“Have you ever thought about becoming an Avenger?” 

 

Sam was taken aback. “Seriously? Are you asking for fun or with a purpose?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “Little of both.”

 

“Of course, I’ve thought about it. Who doesn’t think about it?” 

 

“Me.” 

 

“How do you have friends again?”

 

“I’m not sure, to be fairly honest.” 

 

Sam crossed his arms. “Are you serious about this Avengers thing?” 

 

“Deadly. If you’re interested, that is.” 

 

“Let’s do it.” 

 

~*~*~*~

 

The ride home was tough. Sokovia was in ruins, their people terrified and filled with grief for their loved ones and home. It had only been a week since the Ultron incident. The team went through a lot, between the backlash from the media and the clean-up itself, but nothing compared to Wanda’s struggle. She was heartbroken, which was understandable. It took Clint and Natasha all they had to get her to come with them, to get on the plane and leave Sokovia, and subsequently her brother. The Avengers watched as she cried for hours in the back of the jet. She wouldn’t let anyone touch her, she wouldn’t let anyone talk to her. 

 

Steve was upset for her. Pietro was a good kid, he didn’t deserve to die so young. Wanda didn’t - doesn’t - deserve to lose her brother, her twin no less. He was no stranger to grief and he knew that he would never truly understand what she was going through. Each death was different, each relationship meant something different. When his mother passed, Steve had been prepared. He knew it was going to happen and that it was for the best, to keep her from suffering any longer. But when Bucky died, it felt as if his heart was ripped from his chest in the most violent way imaginable. There was no telling what Wanda was feeling, but either way Steve felt for her. 

 

The Avengers were exhausted, Steve could see it on their faces. Tony wasn’t speaking to anyone, instead he focused on flying the jet with ACDC blaring in his ears. Natasha and Clint were leaning against each other, their clothes tattered and dusty as they tried to stay awake. Thor was leaning against mjolnir, snoring loud enough to shake the seats. Rhodes was trying to fix his helmet, but you could tell he was barely keeping it together. Sam, who had helped bring in a shipment of supplies from the States, was sitting beside Steve, reading a news article on his phone. Steve was subtly propped up against him, trying to figure out what to say to Wanda. 

 

The captain watched Wanda sob into her hands, a helpless sensation filling his chest. He glanced up at Sam and something clicked between them. They both sat up and moved quietly towards the back, sitting across from Wanda. She didn’t look up, simply buried her face deeper into her hands. 

 

Steve cleared his throat. “I remember what it was like to lose Bucky,” he said, voice soft but loud in the near silent jet. He could see Natasha and Clint sit up in his peripheral vision, their interest piqued. “I’d rather crash another plane and sleep for another fifty years than experience that feeling again.” 

 

“What happened?” Clint asked. 

 

The old man leaned back, settling in for a story. “We were in the Alps, tracking down a man named Armin Zola. He was a scientist working to replicate the serum. He was also Johann Schmidt’s right hand-man and the Howlies and I were able to track his train down to a valley in the Alps. The plan was to use a zipline to get onto the train. Bucky thought I was insane for even suggesting that. He kept asking me if it was payback for our childhood years,” Steve smiled softly, “but he never doubted me. Never thought it wouldn’t work, unlike the other Howlies.

 

“I lead Gabe and Buck through the mission. It was going great. We all landed successfully and made it into the train. Gabe went towards the front to capture Zola and Bucky and I went to secure the train. We ended up facing off with this Hydra goon with these huge guns strapped to his shoulders. We managed to get separated a few times, but Buck and I never missed a beat. We’d been fighting for ten minutes when a stray blasts blows the wall off. I was sprawled out on the floor and Buck was way too close to the hole in the wall for my comfort. That didn’t stop him from grabbing my shield and shooting at the Hydra guy. I was trying to get to my feet when another blast hit. Luckily hit the shield, but the force pushed Bucky back. He fell out and grabbed ahold of the wall in a matter of seconds. I scrambled to grab him and thankfully I was quick enough to sling the shield at the Hydra guy to give us enough time to get Buck back in the train.”

 

Steve released a shaky breath, not meeting anyone’s eyes. They were mesmerized. He cleared his throat again and trudged on. “I couldn’t pull him in. I tried with everything I had to pull him back in, to at least get him closer. Nothing worked. He ended up falling into the Alps.” 

 

Wanda looked up, tears streaking down her face. “He fell?” Sam nodded, his face screaming ‘don’t ask any questions.’ 

 

“Losing Bucky broke me,” Steve admitted. “I screamed and cried until I lost my voice. This wasn’t just losing a soldier, Bucky was my best friend and the only family I had. If it wasn’t for the Howlies, I would have died in the Alps looking for him. Instead, I took all of that energy and went after the Red Skull.”

 

“And then he crashed a plane and slept for almost seventy years,” Sam quipped. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What I’m trying to tell you, Wanda, is that you can grieve for as long as you need. Get it all out. You can scream and cry and just wallow in that pain, cause that’s what I did. I let myself ache and I couldn’t shake it. Until something clicked and instead of wallowing, I let my grief fuel me. Bucky encouraged me to take down Hydra, he encouraged me to do what I needed to do stop Schmidt, to help stop the Chitauri. Hell, that pain motivates me through everything I do. You can grieve for as long as you want, but Pietro wouldn’t want you to spend your days wallowing. He’d want you to enjoy life, so take the pain that you’re experiencing now and have that be your motivation to better yourself or master your powers. Okay?” 

 

Wanda sniffled. “Okay,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. 

 

The captain patted her leg and gave her a sympathetic smile. “We’re here for you. We’ve got your back. I promise we won’t pressure you to get over this or to do anything you don’t want to. Trust me.” Steve walked back to his original seat and leaned back to take a nap, ignoring the sympathetic looks the others were giving him. 

 

It suddenly felt like nothing had happened. Everyone went back to normal, except for Wanda. Her tears had started to subside. 

 

Steve closed his eyes and listened to the hum of the engine, the muffled guitars of Tony’s music, and the bellowing snores of Thor. He was almost asleep when he felt someone sit beside him and a head lean against his shoulder. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was Wanda. 

In a time filled with heartbreak and grief, it was a perfect moment. 


	5. 2016

**2016**

 

The media was getting tense. People were either outraged or in awe of the events that had taken place in the past year. Some believed the Avengers had too much power, that they were just another group of vigilantes. Others believed they were doing what no one else would. Either way, they wanted Steve to answer their questions. 

 

People were posted outside his apartment buildings, both in New York and in DC. They would hound him for information, shove cameras in his face, and scream their questions at him as he walked past. Steve was slowly getting angry, at the public but mostly at the reporters. It wasn’t fair that they got to just pop up into his life for no reason but their own morbid curiosity. 

 

Steve glanced out of his window, at the reporters sipping coffee against their vans. “This is ridiculous.” He was trapped in his own home. Steve, the world’s first super soldier, was trapped by a bunch of reporters. 

 

Okay, so he wasn’t trapped. It was possible for him to get out of the building. He could take the front door, he’d just have to deal with the reporters. However, Steve prided himself to be a very successful tactician and as such he knew there were more  _ creative _ ways to leave the house. He could climb out a window and take the fire escapes down to the alley. He could also take the rooftops and head some-

 

His train of thought was cut off by the creak of his front door opening. Steve spun around, body tense and ready to fight if he needed to. In the relatively dark room, all he could see was a figure leaning against the door. 

 

Steve flicked on the lamp, squinting to figure out who it was. He gasped. “Bucky?” 

 

Bucky pressed against the wall, obviously scared. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

Bucky shook his head. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

Bucky stayed quiet, staring at Steve with what most would see as a blank stare. Steve, however, knew better. He could see that Bucky’s eyes were wide and his jaw was twitching, which only ever happened when he was afraid or irritated. 

 

Steve held his hands up in defense and took a cautious step forward. “Are you hurt?” 

 

The intruder was still for a moment before he gave a meek nod. “Okay,” Steve said, “I can help with that, but only if you want.” 

 

Now Bucky was visibly panicked, but something clicked. “It’s my leg,” a hoarse voice rasped.

 

Steve was involuntarily tearing up. It’d been so long since he heard Bucky’s voice… “Okay, why don’t you sit down and I’ll go get the first aid kit.” Steve slowly moved towards the kitchen, keeping his movements slow and purposeful as to not scare his friend. 

 

Bucky, on the other hand, stayed completely still. It was almost like he was unsure what he was supposed to do. Steve watched him through the reflection on the microwave as he grabbed his medical supplies. Bucky limped forward and grabbed the back of the couch, before pressing back against the wall. 

 

The blond carried the supplies back to the couch and set them on the coffee table. “Bucky,” he started softly, “where would you like to sit?” 

 

He winced. “The, um, couch.” 

 

“Do you need help? It’s probably not a good idea for you to be walking on your leg,” Steve said as he walked closer, forgoing the cautious movements. 

 

“Okay,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

Steve walked over slowly and rested his hands on either side of Bucky’s rather large frame. “You can sling your arm over my shoulders, okay?” Bucky nodded and raised his metal arm over Steve’s head, resting the weight on the broad shoulders of his blond friend. They stumbled their way to the couch, where Steve helped Bucky sit so that his leg was rested on the coffee table. 

 

Now that they were close, Steve could smell the odor on Bucky. It was obvious the poor guy wasn’t taking care of himself, nor was he healthy. And the gash in his upper thigh was pretty gnarly. Steve was no doctor, but he knew enough about injuries to know Bucky should get stitches and maybe even and x-ray to insure no damage was done to the bone. 

 

“How do you want me to do this? You can be honest with me. If you want me to call someone for you-”

 

“No,” Bucky demanded. “No doctors. No hospitals. No people. Just you.” 

 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “I can do that. Ma taught me enough about first aid that I can get you taken care of. Can I ask what happened?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Fair enough.” Steve pulled out a pair of scissors, some cotton balls, and the saline. 

 

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “You aren’t going to question it?” 

 

Steve shook his head. “You said not to, so I won’t. Did you want me to ask?” Bucky shook his head this time. “Then okay. I need to clean this up, which means I’m going to cut your pants a lit-” Bucky grabbed either end of the tear and pulled, making the whole large enough to clean and stitch properly. “Thank you,” Steve chuckled. 

 

He grabbed a cotton ball and soaked it in saline. “I’m going to talk you through what I’m doing, okay? I remember you used to like when my ma would talk us through dressing my scrapes. Is that okay?” Steve looked up at Bucky, who was cautious but no longer scared. 

 

“I like that,” he whispered meekly. 

 

Steve grinned. “Great. So first, I’m going to clean the area with some saline okay.  I’ll go around it with the cotton ball first, then I’ll do my best to clean out the wound itself.” And he did just that, going slow and making sure every inch was cleaned with the saline. 

 

“What comes next?” Bucky asked, sounding more like a child than Steve had ever heard him.

 

“I’m going to stitch you up and then put a bandage on. Sound good?” Bucky nodded, so Steve continued with his work. He hummed old songs as he did his best to stitch the wound, prolonging the situation as much as he could without hurting Bucky. 

 

He kind of felt guilty for wanting this to take as long as possible. Bucky needed medical attention and here Steve was wishing that it would take years for him to suture one relatively small wound, all so he could spend a little more time with his illusive ex. (Was he an ex? They never officially broke things off, but Steve supposes “till death do you part” counts as a break up.)

 

Steve bandaged the wound and began to pack up his medical supplies. “You’re all good.” Bucky moved to stand, before Steve grabbed at his metal wrist. “Wait, you need to stay off of it. Relax.” 

 

Bucky jerked his hand away, but settled back into the couch. He was scared again, on edge as he watched Steve take the supplies back to the kitchen. 

 

“Can I get you anything?” the captain called. “When was the last time you ate?” Steve peered over his shoulder to see Bucky in deep thought. After a long moment of silence, he only grew more concerned about the man’s health. “I’ve got leftover lasagna that my friend Sam made me. I can heat that up for you, if you want.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

So Steve warmed the lasagna up and served it to the former assassin. “So,” Steve started as he watched Bucky shovel food in his mouth, “how have you been?” 

 

Bucky grunted, not bothering to speak. 

 

“Where have you been? Wait, don’t answer that. That’s none of my business.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, growing anxious and frantic as he tried to figure out the best way to help Bucky without scaring him too much. “Do you need anything? Clothes, toiletries, food? I can run out and get you some supplies, might make things easier. Hell, I can give you a couple hundred if you need it. Whatever you need, Buck.” 

 

Bucky glared at him. Steve was surprised to see that he couldn’t tell whether or not Bucky was mad at him or if he was just in deep thought. Here lately, he always looks mad. “Why do you care?” 

 

Steve was taken aback. Bucky was always blunt, but never like this. Not when it came to feelings and emotional bullshit. “I care because we’re best friends. We have each others backs through thick and thin and I’m here to help. If that means giving you your space and taking down Hydra, then so be it. Fuck, I’d give you everything I own if it means you’ll be okay.” 

 

The brunet studied him for a moment, real quiet and still. And then things did a one-eighty. Bucky placed his plate and fork on the table gently and chugged a bottle of water Steve had given him. Then he was standing up and heading to the door with a gruff, “I need to leave.” 

 

“Wait!” Steve tried to grab him again, but it was too late. Bucky had walked out the door and disappeared, too quick and quiet for Steve to try and chase him. He wanted nothing more than to go after him and force him to stay with him, but Steve knew better. He knew Bucky needed to make his own choices and maybe, just maybe, he’d come home to him. 

 

One day he will, Steve just knew it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys... this was the last chapter of Part Two!! It snuck up on us, but it's worth it because now we have Bucky! This was a shorter chapter, but I wanted to lead into civil war, which is where Part Three starts, and just charge forward. Part Three, I have decided, is also where canon divergence stops and where my own story begins. I don't think it will be longer than the 5-6 chapter ratio I've built thus far, unlike Part Four, but it'll have more substance. 
> 
> And for the record, I understand that this Bucky depicted in this chapter seems a bit.... underdeveloped compared to the Bucky we see in Civil War. In Civil War, he's more like the man we remember from before, but here he's more soldier than human. I did that on purpose, but in case I don't explain it, later on, I wanted to let you know why. My theory is that for the majority of his time in between CATWS and CACW he's running from Hydra and the authorities, so his focus isn't on figuring himself out it's keeping himself safe. After this visit with Steve, he settles down and tries to figure out himself so that he can try and be who Steve wants him to be because he obviously realizes whatever happened was important to him prior to Hydra. Of course, we know he has those journals (and the one Steve wrote for him) so he's not completely soldier, but more like a halfway point between the Bucky we saw previously and the one we see at the end of CACW. Honestly, he's kind of like the Bucky we see at the very beginning, the one who is somewhat stable and trying to do something for himself, but doesn't act very "human" (if that makes sense). This Buck was like a step below that Bucky. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm still planning the next part and how I want to go about the canon-verse side of things. However, I'm on a roll right now so I don't think it'll be too terribly long until I post the next part. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading my fic, I truly appreciate every single one of you for indulging in on my little headcanons. I'm excited to go on this journey with you guys, so please stay tuned for the next part!! 
> 
> Subscribe to the series to find out when I post Part Three.
> 
> Leave a comment to let me know what you want to see coming up and anything you wished I touched upon in the past parts! ~ J xxx


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